


Fire and Ice

by AccidentalAvenger



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Minor Violence, superhero au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-04-18 19:53:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4718483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccidentalAvenger/pseuds/AccidentalAvenger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even a few weeks ago Grantaire would have laughed if you had told him he was anything other than normal. Mutations and Superpowers seemed worlds away. Still, it happened. <br/>But becoming a Superhero? That's a whole other level of ridiculous. </p>
<p>Isn't it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Skies Are All Falling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1697468) by [AccidentalAvenger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccidentalAvenger/pseuds/AccidentalAvenger). 



> This is a rewrite of one of my first fics; The Skies Are All Falling. Title is from Robert Frost's poem of the same name.

“Although no one is quite clear what triggers the mutation that leads to powers, it is a well-known fact that it was originally caused by the 1964 Death Valley meteor strike,” presenter told the camera seriously as he walked along a busy Californian street. The Parisian skies outside Grantaire’s window were grey and miserable, a sharp contrast to the sunny weather being shown on the TV. Grantaire sighed and dropped the sketchbook and pencil onto the floor, turning his attention to the TV screen where grainy footage of the meteor strike played. As he watched he stretched his hand, easing the cramped muscles, focused on the television.

“Scientists have sent their lives trying to unfurl the mysteries surrounding mutation, to little avail,” the presenter continued, “Why it only seems to affect certain individuals, why each mutation is so unique and unusual and how mutants trigger mutation in others by proximity alone: all of these have remained unanswered for over 50 years. There are multiple theories – the idea that radiation caused it, or even a type of virus or bacteria. None of the theories have ever been proved and the science behind mutation and powers remains unclear. That's why we’re here today- Death Valley; where it all began.”

The scene cut to a desert, the earth cracked and hazy. The presenter appeared, walking into shot and looking straight into the camera.   
“Scientific interest in mutation is as hot as it always has been – multiple labs around the world are dedicated to studying and recording mutations and most recently there has been a multi-government effort to locate the actual meteor of 1964,” he told the viewer, “Even in a world where whole generations have never known anything else, the idea of powers is still as fascinating as ever. And it's clear why; Superheroes.

Multiple pictures of men and women flash by, all in distinctive costumes with majestic poses. The presenter continues to narrate. “For the first few years, mutation was treated as a shameful thing, a disease. Anyone showing signs of mutation was quickly quarantined and often experimented on by scientists, in a desperate attempt to find answers. Often the government didn't have time to step in as mutants where universally feared. Lynching of anyone suspected of having powers were common. There was widespread confusion and fear. It seemed like mutation would always be hated. 

“And then out of the blue, in August 1968, a mysterious girl in Los Angeles used her powers of telekinesis to save a school bus as it plummeted off a bridge. That teenage girl, Ruby Sanders or the Scarlet Savior as she came to be known, was only 15 and she saved over 20 lives that day. After that, people in masks began popping up everywhere. The media couldn't get enough of Caped Crusaders and they were applauded. Sadly, the appearance of Superheroes also heralded the rise of the Supervillain. For all the glory that Superheroes brought to mutants, just as much fear was created. Just as mutants remain a scientific mystery – they are also feared and hated in everyday life. 

"In this series we will be looking into the prejudices still surrounding mutation as well as discussing the impacts of the new mutant registration bill. We’ll be looking at our past and trying to figure out what the future will hold for mutants and the rest of us. And, most importantly we’ll be asking questions; why do Superheroes still wear masks and what is behind that? Stay tuned for-”

the screen blinked into blackness as Eponine dropped onto the sofa beside Grantaire with a tired sigh. She was still wearing her waitressing uniform and her hair looked unkempt. There were bags under her eyes and her expression was pissed off and angry. 

"I was watching that,” Grantaire muttered as she tossed the remote onto the floor.   
“Yeah, yeah,” said Eponine rolling her eyes, “You were definitely fascinated by another documentary on Mutants. There was no way you were putting off finishing that commission sketch. It was certainly genuine interest in the documentary about Superheroes.”

Grantaire stuck his tongue out at his roommate as he kicked the sketchbook under the sofa. Eponine made a face in return, raising an eyebrow.   
“You better complete that,” she told him, “work at the café is lousy at the moment and I want heating this winter so chop chop.”   
“You are so demanding,” Grantaire muttered as Eponine lay back in the sofa scowling, “That bad today, huh?”   
“You don't even want to know. Nightmare boss, nightmare orders, nightmare customers,” she groaned. Grantaire tutted in sympathy. “At least the student group coming in tomorrow always tips well and they're polite.”   
“Student group?” Grantaire asked doubtfully, “Aren't they usually rowdy as hell?”   
“No, these guys started coming a couple of weeks ago and they're pretty polite even though they order so much shit. Some sort of activist group.” Grantaire snorted derisively and Eponine swatted his arm, “Shut up, they tip well. Anyway, I'm exhausted."  
"You poor wounded soul," muttered Grantaire. Eponine punched his arm lightly.   
"That's a hint to go make me tea, idiot," she told him. He rolled his eyes.   
"Yeah I know, I was just avoiding it."  
"Well, scram. I want tea." 

Grantaire groaned as Eponine shoved him off the sofa. He sat on the faded rug sullenly. Eponine spread herself across the sofa like a cat and poked him with her sock-clad foot.  
“Go, fetch,” she told him sternly. Grantaire stubbornly remained on the floor for a few moments before scrambling to his feet, using Eponine’s leg to pull himself up.   
“You are a terrible friend; you know that?” he said in faux-bitterness. Eponine hummed in agreement, limbs splayed across the battered couch and eyes closed serenely. Grantaire made a face at her as he walked towards their tiny kitchen. 

The kettle wheezed as he turned it on and he grabbed two of the chipped mugs from the cupboard. A wonky Santa, painted onto the mug by Eponine’s younger brother as a Christmas present years ago, grinned manically at him. It was her favourite mug, although she’d never admit it. Her excuse for keeping it was that it embarrassed Gavroche whenever he saw it being used, but Grantaire knew that secretly she loved it. The other proudly advertised Sydney, a city that neither Eponine nor Grantaire had ever visited. Neither was sure where they had picked that mug up. 

As the kettle boiled he opened the cupboard and sighed in annoyance as he saw the box of teabags was empty. Tossing it into the bin he yelled into the other room. “’Ponine, we’re out of tea!”   
“Go get some more,” her bored voice replied. Grantaire rolled his eyes and walked into the other room, grabbing his jacket.  
“Can't you go?” he asked half-heartedly, shrugging it on, “You're the one who wanted tea.”  
“It's cold and I just got back,” Eponine replied with a snort, “I'm waiting for a call from Gav and Zelma’s case worker. And anyway, I am reading a very interesting article on the gunfight that got stopped by that new group of Superheroes. You know, the ABC?”   
“I'm sure that's intriguing,” Grantaire commented sarcastically, “Superheroes. How amazingly exciting.”  
“It's not too bad,” Eponine said, glancing briefly away from the magazine she had somehow acquired without leaving the sofa, “Some of them seem pretty cute and they've been popping up a lot lately.”  
“They'll disappear soon enough,” Grantaire said derisively, grabbing his keys and stepping out of the flat, “Most Superheroes do - they'll get bored or caught by someone more powerful. The government has started cracking down on Mutants as well.”  
“Oh shut up,” Eponine replied, “Go get tea – be quick, I'm dying for something to drink.”  
“Get a glass of water!” Grantaire shouted back at her as the door swung shut.

The walk to the nearest convenience store wasn't long but did lead Grantaire through an alley that smelt like cat-pee and was always dark, even in the height of summer. In the cold, dark autumn evening it was even worse; at his end the dim lights of his block of flats illuminated the road, at the other one flickering street lamp faintly shone showing the way. Grantaire pulled out his phone and turned on the torch and began making his way down the alley, breathing shallowly as he moved past dumpster and over-flowing drains. Empty Chinese take-away cartons, the sour smell wafting up from them making Grantaire wrinkle his nose in disgust. 

The constant hum of traffic came from the far end of the alley, passing by the row of shops. There were distant voices chattering and the steady drip of the leaky drains above him. As he walked, the puddles of water by his feet sloshed gently. Apart from that it was eerily quiet and Grantaire felt a stab of irritation as he realized he’d forgotten his headphones. It was a relatively short journey, across the car park, down the alley between a dry cleaners and a chip shop and then just up the road but still, the silence was unsettling. Grantaire tried humming to himself faintly but it did nothing to lessen the chills running down his spine. He gave up, shoving his hands into his pocket. That was when he heard the faint splashing of footsteps behind him, steadily growing louder. 

He turned to look, speeding up as he looked back. It took him a moment to spot the figure, all dressed in black, in the darkness of the alley; much closer than he had realized. Whoever it was, they were running directly towards him. A stab of fear went through him as the person steadily gained on him. Grantaire began to speed up breaking into a run but the figure was already too close. He stumbled through the puddles, slipping in his loose-fitting trainers. The splashing of footsteps grew even closer and a hand closed round Grantaire’s arm, yanking him backwards painfully. 

Grantaire pulled his arm away, his heart beating faster than he could have imagined possible. He took a step backwards, raising his fist, preparing to fight. The man in front of him was shorter than Grantaire and the hoodie that he wore obscured most of his face. Still, he looked young, younger than Grantaire. He tensed, ready to attack, which was when he saw the glinting of the handgun the man was holding by his side. 

“Give me your wallet,” the man ordered, his voice high and uncertain, “And your phone. Or I’ll shoot you.”  
Grantaire moved slowly, not taking his eyes off the man who had slowly raised the gun, pointing it straight at him. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out his wallet and his phone while taking in what he could see of the man’s face. He was unshaven and his pupils seemed unnaturally large. His hands shook slightly as he held the gun out in front of him. Years of growing up in the system with people from all walks of like meant it was plain to Grantaire that the man was high as a kite. 

He carefully placed his wallet and phone in front of him and stepped back quickly, almost bumping into a dumpster. The guy waved his gun threateningly at him as he reached down to pick up the items.   
“Try anything funny and I’ll blow your fucking brains out,” he told Grantaire, his voice less unsure now. Grantaire nodded silently, eyes wide and afraid, as the man grabbed his wallet and phone. He gave a dissatisfied grunt at the old battered phone but pocketed it regardless. He opened the wallet and began leafing through the few notes Grantaire had. He made a frustrated noise, snapping the wallet shut and glaring viciously at Grantaire. 

“You've only got 20 quid, what the fuck?” the man yelled, gesturing with the gun, “I need more than that!”   
“I don't have any more, I'm sorry,” Grantaire said quickly, taking another short step back and hoping that someone would hear the mugger yelling.   
“You better not,” the man hissed, glancing at the wallet again. He stopped momentarily, focusing on the card section. “You've got a credit card, what's the pin?”  
It took a moment for Grantaire to process what the mugger was saying and a flood of panic washed over him when he finally did. Everything he had was in that bank account; without it they wouldn't be able to pay the rent and their landlord had already threatened to evict them if they couldn't pay again. 

“What's the fucking pin?” the mugger said, stepping forwards angrily.   
“I- I can't remember,” Grantaire lied, “Look, dude just take the money and the phone – I don't have anything-”  
“Don't tell me what to do!” the man snarled, not lowering the gun, “Give me the pin, you bastard!” 

Grantaire opened his mouth to reply, desperately stepping away and tripping over an old shop sign. As he fell, landing right by a puddle of murky water, a flickering, golden light filled the air. Grantaire glanced up and had to squint as a glowing figure dropped from the shop’s roof, landing right beside the mugger. The man gave a panicked yelp and swung his gun around but there was a flash of light, a pained groan and the smell of burning hair. The gun clattered to the ground safely as the mugger fell to his knees, clutching his arm. 

The figure stood over the mugger, dressed all in red. His golden hair glowed, literally shone like a beacon in the dark alley. In fact, all uncovered skin seemed to shine lightly, apart from his hands which were aflame and clenched into fists by his side, hovering by a thick black utility belt. Black material from the belt fluttered out behind him in a non-existent breeze, somehow managing managing to not catch fire. He stood tall, his back to Grantaire, posture confident and black boots planted firmly on the grimy alley floor. The whole effect was unmistakably heroic and Grantaire could not tear his eyes away from the impressive figure. 

“Return what you stole,” the Superhero ordered, his voice commanding but somehow lyrical. Grantaire felt a flash of irritation at the fact he was being completely ignored but didn’t interrupt, watching the mugger’s expression change from one of shock to one of terror.  
“I – I didn’t steal nothing,” the mugger stuttered out, edging backwards.  
“I know you did,” the Superhero said, “I heard you; return the wallet and phone and hand the gun over.”   
The man shuffled back further, looking petrified.   
“Return it!” the Superhero repeated forcefully. The mugger’s hand slipped backwards and Grantaire opened his mouth to shout a warning as he saw the man’s hand close around the gun. 

It was too late; the mugger swung the gun round and shot twice, still sitting in a dirty puddle. There was a rush of flames, impossibly bright, coming from the Superhero. Grantaire flinched away, a wave of intense heat rushing over him. He heard the mugger give a scream of pain and looked up to see him dropping the gun which was glowing red-hot. Two large metallic splotches on the ground showed Grantaire what had happened to the bullets.

The flames around the Superhero dimmed and when he spoke, his voice was low and filled with anger. “Give me what you stole or I swear to God, next time I won’t hold back.” 

For the first time Grantaire felt honestly scared of the Hero. The man standing in front of him was powerful and was prepared to use his power to hurt others if necessary. The mugger, looking slightly singed and more than slightly petrified, obviously got the same vibe as he pulled the wallet and phone out from his hoodie pocket and tossed them carelessly onto the ground beside the gun, bum-shuffling away as fast as he could. The superhero leant down to pick the objects up, tucking the gun into his belt. The mugger took his chance and scrambled to his feet, sprinting away from the Superhero. The man sighed and watched him go without going after him. 

Grantaire held his breath as the man turned to him. A black mask covered his eyes but despite that he was breath-taking, even without skin that glowed. He tilted his head and Grantaire and looked at him intently. 

“Are you alright?” he asked seriously, frowning down at Grantaire who nodded silently. The man stepped forward and held out his hand to help Grantaire up. Grantaire went to take the man's hand but hesitated as he remembered the bright flames that had flickered there moments before. The Superhero caught the worried expression and laughed quietly.

“Don't worry. I'm not going to burn you,” he reassured Grantaire who took the proffered hand. The Superhero was surprisingly strong for his slender figure, hauling him to his feet with ease.   
As Grantaire brushed dirt off his clothes the man held out his phone and wallet. 

“These are yours,” he said briskly. Grantaire took them with a nod and raised eyebrows.   
“Yep, at least I hope so,” he replied, “Well, thanks Apollo. Good luck with crime fighting and whatnot.”   
The man frowned at him, folding his arms. “Apollo?” he asked, his voice suspicious and slightly annoyed. 

“Yeah; Apollo. The Greek Sun God. You know, cause you're glowing?”  
“Well it's Inferno,” the Superhero snapped, “Not Apollo. You could show a little gratitude – I saved you.”   
Grantaire gave a huff of laughter; Inferno clearly seemed on edge, to become so quickly annoyed at him.   
“I said thanks,” he pointed out, “And you did leave me sitting in a puddle for a lot of that exchange.”   
Inferno scoffed. “I’m sorry I was trying to get that man to return your stuff without shooting anyone.”  
“Look, Apollo, it’s not that I’m not grateful,” Grantaire said graciously, “I’m just cold, my pants are soaked and I just almost got mugged. Also you’re glowing and it’s a bit disconcerting.”

Inferno scowled at him slightly but the glow faded, leaving both of them in the faint light of the streetlamp.  
“Are you sure you aren’t hurt?” the Superhero asked grudgingly, his arms folded as he looked Grantaire up and down. Grantaire felt suddenly self conscious of his grubby coat and worn jeans; his outfit was basically falling apart compared to the flashy Super-suit.  
“I’m fine,” he reassured the man, “Seriously, Apollo. Go fight crime or whatever you plan to do with the rest of your night.” 

Inferno nodded briefly, convinced that Grantaire was fine, and turned to go. He began to stride off but stopped and turned back, frowning once again.   
“I’ve already told you; it’s Inferno,” he said firmly before jumping lightly onto the dumpster’s edge and pulling himself onto the roof in one graceful move. Grantaire gave a huff of laughter.   
“Yeah, whatever you say,” he shouted after the Superhero, “Apollo.”

He stood there for a moment, hands deep in his pockets, watching the place where Inferno had disappeared. After a few seconds he turned with a sigh and began making his way towards the shops. He cursed himself for his stupid comments but they had just seemed to tumble out. His head felt as if it was filled with cotton wool and his vision swam slightly. He shook his head, attributing it to shock and the cold. 

As he made his way towards the faint light at the end of the alley, he replayed the strange scene in his head, wandering how he would tell Eponine about the whole thing. Undoubtedly she would freak out but his encounter with Inferno would impress her. Absent-mindedly he scratched his palm which had begun tingling strangely and the light of street lamp flickered uncertainly as he got closer.


	2. Chapter 2

The lift journey back to the flat seemed to take forever. Above Grantaire the light flickered ominously, casting him into darkness every few seconds. The elevator was surprisingly cold for such a warm evening. Grantaire shoved his hands into his pockets, trying not to shiver in the constant cool breeze. His hands felt like ice and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He felt strangely uneasy, as if there was someone behind him; watching him intently. A heavy sense of exhaustion had come over him as the adrenaline had slowly faded; weighing down on him like a blanket. He felt himself drifting off as the lift creaked upwards. 

Finally the elevator beeped and the doors slid open unevenly. He made it to the door, milk under his arms. His fingers were numb with cold and he fumbled with his keys, struggling to fit them in the lock. The lights of the hall were dimmer than usual, forcing him to squint as he unlocked the door. 

As he walked in Eponine looked up from the TV, raising her eyebrows at him.   
"You took forever," she commented, brushing her hair away from her eyes, "What happened to you."  
Grantaire dropped down beside her in the sofa with a tired sigh. "I got mugged. Then saved by a Superhero. It was weird."   
Eponine sat up straighter, her bored expression changing quickly to concern.   
"What?" she asked, stumbling over her words, "What happened? Are you okay?"   
"I'm fine 'Ponine - don't worry," Grantaire reassured her with a tired smile. 

He explained what had happened, Eponine listening to him intently, still looking very worried. When he finished she leant over and drew him into a hug.   
"Thank god you're okay," she said fiercely as she sat back, "Sounds like this Inferno is a life saver."   
"Yeah," Grantaire admitted, "I thought the guy was gonna shoot me anyway, if he hadn't arrived I'd probably be dead."   
"Sounds like it," Eponine agreed. She looked shaken by the news; even though she acted tough she cared for her family and friends more than she'd ever admit.   
"I'm okay," Grantaire said, touching her arm briefly, "Just tired. Also cold - I think something's wrong with the heating again."  
Eponine nodded in understanding, giving him a tense smile. She stood up, brushing her messy dark hair out of her eyes.  
"I'm gonna make tea," she announced, still seeming concerned, "I'll be back in a minute." 

As she walked off Grantaire leant back, resting his head against the back of the sofa and grimacing. He gently rubbed at his temples, a painful pressure building there. It had been steadily building, making it seem as if something was pressing against the inside of his skull, trying to break out. The room swum before his eyes; the old, thin carpet turning into a blur. He closed his eyes, hoping the sensation would fade but instead it continues to grow, his ears ringing, nearly blocking out the wheezing of the kettle. However it didn't block out the shattering and Eponine's surprised exclamation.

"Are you okay?" he said, opening his eyes and leaning forward.  
"I'm fine," she shouted from the kitchen, causing Grantaire to wince, "Just dropped a mug." A moment later she came out of the kitchen, holding two mugs of tea, clutching them tightly. She looked paler than before, almost unnaturally so. As she handed him a mug, sitting down beside him, she frowned in annoyance. Grantaire's hand curled round the warmth of the cup, steadily warming his hands. 

"I liked that mug," Eponine complained, "I don't know how it happened! I was just holding it and then it was falling. It must have slipped or something. At least it was empty, I guess."  
"I'll clean it up," Grantaire offered, taking a sip of the tea which was already lukewarm. The pain in his head had begun to fade, becoming a slight ache rather than a relentless thumping.   
"It's fine R - you're in shock," Eponine told him, "I broke it."  
Grantaire shook his head. "I'm alright, really. You should probably relax, you look kind of ill."   
Eponine groaned. "God, I better not be. Marcus is being a right bastard and I'd never hear the end of it if I went off sick."   
"Same," muttered Grantaire, going to take another sip of his tea. He spat it out in disgust. "What the hell?" he exclaimed, "This is freezing!"  
Eponine gave him a weird look. "Mine's still warm." 

Grantaire looked at his tea in confusion. As he stared frost began to form round the edges, climbing up the side of the cup as he watched.   
"What the fuck?" he muttered, apprehension growing as the frost spread, forming swirls across the surface of his tea. Eponine leant forward and swore quietly, her amazement and fear clear.   
"R, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice unusually unsure.   
"I'm not doing anything," Grantaire choked out, panic clawing it's way up his throat. His hands felt suddenly warm, as if the coldness had transferred from him into the cup. 

"What's going on?" Eponine asked, her voice calm and steady even though he could see from her eyes that she was afraid.  
"I don't know," Grantaire muttered, unable to take his eyes off the ice that now filled his mug. The lightbulb above them began to flicker rapidly; on and off, on and off, on and off.   
"Grantaire," Eponine stated, "When you saw Inferno, did you touch him at all? Even just his arm?"   
Grantaire nodded, his voice not working. The lightbulb above them was getting dimmer, the shadows in the room spreading steadily. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply and felt the same strange feeling that someone was watching him that he had felt in the lift. He felt hyper aware of the darkness, of where the room was most cold. 

"What happened?" Eponine asked him. Grantaire shrugged.  
"He helped pull me up. I took his hand," Grantaire admitted, "Shit, 'Ponine; you don't think I'm - that I might be-"  
"A mutant?" Eponine finished for him. He couldn't help but flinch slightly, eyes still clenched shut. "I think you might be."   
With a long shuddering breath he opened his eyes and looked up at his friend. He stared, completely shocked. 

"Holy shit Eponine, you're translucent," he exclaimed, clutching the frozen tea tightly.  
He could only just see her roll her eyes. "Look, I get I look ill. You said already. I have a really bad headache right now but that's not the point. The point is-"  
"No, 'Ponine," Grantaire interrupted, "You are literally translucent. I can barely see you."  
She made a surprised noise and raised her her hand, looking at it intently. Through it you could clearly see the faded blue fabric of the sofa beneath her. For a brief second her arm became almost invisible but flickered, becoming more solid again. Grantaire stared silently, not sure how to react. 

The two remained quiet for several long moments, the shadows in the room growing longer and darker by the second. Grantaire's head was swimming and he felt as if his skin was buzzing. Lights from a car outside briefly illuminated the room and the sound of shouting could faintly be heard from a flat upstairs. Grantaire and Eponine didn't speak, lost in thought, the sound washing over them. Finally, Eponine took a deep, shaky breath.   
"Well," she said, sounding more uncertain than Grantaire had ever heard her before, "We're screwed." 

========================

The house was silent as Enjolras crept through it. Early morning light was beginning to creep through the bay windows, filling the corridor with grey dimness. The long echoing halls seemed almost eerie in the silence of the twilight. In a few hours the hall would be filled with noise – his friends weren't exactly the silent type. But in the faint beginning of dawn there was no sign of life apart from him, being as quiet as he possibly could. His muscles protested as he made his way cautiously along, the strain of using his powers so much in such a short time taking its toll. 

As he reached the door to his room he gave a sigh of relief and pushed the door open. He walked in, pulling his mask and gloves off with relief, and switched on the light. Exhaustion hung heavy over him, making him miss the figure behind him.   
“What the hell are you doing?” snapped a familiar voice from his bed. 

He whirled round, eyes wide with surprise and flames springing automatically from his hands which clenched into fists. Combeferre sat cross-legged on his bed, glaring at him from the red duvet, phone in hand. Enjolras froze, caught in Combeferre’s angry stare. The roaring flames died down and he dropped his hands to his side with a sigh.

“It's four o’clock, for God’s sake!” Combeferre exclaimed, standing up. He folded his arms and looked at Enjolras expectantly. “Where were you?”  
“I was out. Stop acting like my mother,” Enjolras muttered, moving away from the door and dropping the gloves and mask onto his dresser.   
“I will when you stop acting like a surly teenager,” Combeferre said with annoyance, “What we're doing ‘out’?”

Enjolras spun round and scowled at Combeferre. “What does it look like I was doing?” he said sarcastically. Combeferre rolled his eyes.  
“Do we really have to go through this again?” he asked, his tone bored and tired, “I’ve been up most of the night- waiting for you to get back.”  
“You didn't need to do that,” Enjolras said, his anger seeping away and his shoulders dropping.  
“I was worried about you,” Combeferre admitted, “You can't keep going out like this! It's dangerous!”  
Enjolras scoffed. “I'm fine, ‘Ferre. I'm not doing anything that's dangerous. I'm just being a Superhero – you know, like we’re supposed to?” 

Combeferre sighed and sat down on the bed. He took his glasses off and polished them on his loose blue t-shirt. He replaced them and looked intently at Enjolras, still stood in the centre of the room, arms folded defiantly.   
"It's not that I don't agree with what you're doing," he said steadily, “I want to help people just as much as you do. You know that. But going out alone – stopping random criminals, the unorganised ‘vigilante’ approach - that's dangerous. It's reckless!”  
“Don't talk to me like I'm a toddler,” Enjolras snapped but the malice was gone from his tone. He dropped onto the bed beside Combeferre, his legs giving way. “I'm not going to get hurt; guns, knives and fire aren't really big risks to me. I actually save lives!”

“By risking your own! I know that most thugs aren't a threat but what happens if you come across someone with powers?”  
“We've been through this,” Enjolras sighed, “I’d phone you guys of course.”  
“You shouldn't need to phone us!” Combeferre exclaimed, running his hands through his hair, “We’re a team and that means sticking together. Making decisions together. No random petty crime fighting whenever you get restless. We fight the main causes of crime, and someone is always there watching your back.”  
“It's not as if I'm dropping out of ABC work,” Enjolras pointed out.  
“That's not the point. The point is you're being reckless and selfish – looking for instant gratification when saving someone instead of thinking big and working with the rest of us. Maybe we should do more to help individuals but not like this.”

“It's worked for so many other Superheroes,” Enjolras said, throwing himself back onto his pillow, “It's what we’re expected to do.”  
Combeferre sighed. “Yeah. There have been hundreds of vigilante superheroes – I know. But most of them either teamed up or disappeared and I don't want that happening to my best friend. Anyway, that stereotype was created years ago – before all the militarisation and talk of mutant registration. The world's not the same anymore.”  
“I'm not going to stop because of people’s bigotry,” Enjolras snapped, tensing at the mention of the recent registration bill.   
“And if you slip up? Hurt someone too much and the rest of us aren't there? We’re at the point where the government won't hesitate to send the tanks out after you if you pose even a tiny threat,” Combeferre replied, standing up and beginning to pace, “We’re only a few steps away from becoming like America; being forced to join a government-controlled mutant group or give up the mask. People are on edge- and Europe’s recording higher levels of mutants every year. Not as many as the US and Canada but in a few decades we’ll have as many capes running around as they do.”

“I know the facts,” Enjolras said, lying back on his bed and sighing. Arguing with Combeferre always resulted in a stand-still and it was frustrating.   
“Except you don't learn anything from them,” Combeferre said sounding equally as annoyed, “You can't see that it's now too dangerous to risk vigilante work. You could get hurt by another mutant or caught by the authorities. What would that mean for the rest of us?”   
“I won't – I’m careful,” argued Enjolras, propping himself up in his elbow, “I know what I’m doing. I just want to help people who need help. I'm doing good, okay? I stopped a man from being shot by a mugger tonight- I saved a girl from a burning building after that. How is doing stuff like that wrong?”

Combeferre hovered by the door and grimaced sadly. “It's not wrong. It's just dangerous. It isn't your job to save everyone in the city, Enj.”  
“I can try,” Enjolras muttered, dropping onto his bed. A wave of exhaustion hit him, the long night he had had finally catching up to him as the adrenaline faded.   
“You shouldn't have to,” Combeferre said softly, noticing his friend’s drop in energy, “We’ll talk about this later, okay? It has to stop. But for now – get some sleep. After using your powers all night you’ll be out like a light.” He sniggered slightly. “No pun intended. I’ll tell the others you were up late.”

Enjolras hummed in agreement, weariness pinning him to his bed. With a slight click, the lights went off and there was a soft thud as Combeferre closed the door behind him. Enjolras fought to keep his eyes open as darkness washed over him. Eventually he gave in and himself slip into sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

People walking along the street by Grantaire huddled into their coats, trying to shelter from the biting cold wind. It was a grey morning and the trees rustled in the bitter wind.   
"It's fucking freezing," Eponine complained, rubbing her hands together in an attempt to keep them warm. She glared up at him, "How are you not cold?"  
Grantaire shrugged and gave her a sly grin. "I guess I'm just a warm-hearted person." Eponine snorted derisively.   
"Keep telling yourself that," she muttered pulling her black coat tighter around her. 

Grantaire didn't feel the cold as he had before. He knew that it was cold; he could feel the wind battering him, but it didn't affect him like it would have done less than a week ago. It felt cool, almost refreshing. Since the night he had met Inferno, Grantaire hadn't felt the cold properly. There had been that night, lying in his pitch black room and shivering - feeling like he would never be warm again. Then the next morning he had woken up, kicked off the scratchy blankets he had piled on top of himself the night before and been fine. Since then he hadn't been cold; the green coat he had on was more to stop people staring than to protect himself from the weather. 

Cars passed them by, whizzing past quickly. Eponine scowled.   
"Lucky bastards," she commented, "They look warm."   
Grantaire made a noise of agreement, staring at the cars as they passed.   
"Can't you do something to make me warmer?" she continued, "This is ridiculous. It's only September - it shouldn't be this."   
"You know I can't," Grantaire replied, "I can make it colder? Darker if you want? But warmer is a no."   
Eponine muttered something into her red scarf that sounded a lot like 'useless'. 

Both of them fell silent as a chattering couple passed them, talking loudly. Grantaire tensed up, scared that they had overheard what Eponine had just been saying but e pair ignored them. As they fell behind Grantaire spoke up.  
"Do you think we should tell someone?" he asked cautiously. Eponine stopped and stared at him in horror.   
"What the hell? No!" she exclaimed, looking panicked, "Do you want to give the bigots round here more reason to hate us?" She glanced around quickly before hissing, "Do you think that 'mutant freak' would fit in nicely with the racist, sexist and homophobic comments we get?"   
Grantaire shook his head quickly, "No - not like that. I mean tell Azelma and Gav. Or Floreal or Lousion?" 

Eponine visibly relaxed, her shoulders dropping. When she spoke, the venom had gone from her tone.  
"Sorry," she said, still sounding tense, "I thought you meant people in general. Or that we should so something stupid like register or whatever the government is trying to do."   
Grantaire shivered at the suggestion. "No way. I'm not an idiot. I'd rather not have to wash anymore graffiti off our door, thanks."  
"Yeah, I know. I'm just kind of tense about the whole thing," Eponine admitted, looking uncomfortable at the confession. Grantaire nodded in agreement.   
"So what should we do?" he said after a moment's silence, "I feel weird not saying anything."   
“I don't want to bring the kids into this,” Eponine said firmly, “They shouldn't have to deal with our problems and- and,” she stumbled slightly over her words, “I'm worried that if I'm a mutant, they might be as well. I don't want all of this,” she gestured to herself and Grantaire, “For them. If we can avoid it.”   
Grantaire shrugged. “Alright. What about our friends?”   
Eponine shook her head, looking nauseated. “I don't want to lie to them but it doesn't feel safe. I'd rather we keep it silent – ignore it, you know. We just can't risk anything getting-“ she paused, staring at a group of people gathered down the street, “There are police there – outside the bank. What's going on?” 

She sped up, walking towards the crowd around the large imposing building. Grantaire hurried after her, examining the group where several police seemed to be holding people back. Several people seemed to be filming with their phones and as he approached he heard several voices all talking at once; some distressed, some fascinated. A booming voice, coming from a megaphone one of the police held, warned people to stay back. 

Eponine pushed through the crowd easily, arriving at the front of the police blockade quickly. Grantaire followed her, struggling through the crowd which milled around.   
“What's happening?” Eponine asked a grim looking police officer.  
“Please stand back Miss. We currently have a hostage situation in the bank. Stand back everyone,” she replied, walking steadily forward. Grantaire peered over the woman’s head, trying to catch a glimpse inside the bank’s glass doors. 

The police officer steadily moved forward, arms outstretched. Grantaire stumbled backwards, glancing behind him and throwing his arms out. He stopped momentarily, staring at the large man behind him who had a look on his face which could only described as glee. He caught Grantaire’s horrified stare and the smile slipped off his face, being replaced by a scowl.   
“What the fuck are you looking at?” he growled angrily. Grantaire was about to reply when Eponine grabbed his arms, making him jump. He glanced back quickly to see the brown coat disappearing into the crowd which was steadily growing. 

“We should get out of here,” Eponine hissed, tugging on his coat and leading him away. Grantaire glanced back at the imposing building behind him, an insane idea beginning to form in the back of his mind but Eponine was pulling him free from the crowd. A news van pulled up by the group which was now spilling from the pavement onto the road, causing cars to slow down as they passed. 

Eponine dropped his arm and shoved her hands deep into her pockets, walking away as quickly as she could. Grantaire began hurrying after her but he glanced back once, biting his lip uncertainly. He hovered momentarily with indecision when several screams and a volley of shots came from the building, causing the group outside to gasp and hustle forwards. A child began crying loudly and Eponine came suddenly to a halt. 

She stood silently as Grantaire approached her. Her pained expression made it clear that she had the same growing idea that he had. She closed her eyes, letting out a slight whimper. Grantaire waited for several moments before saying quietly, “We could do something, Eponine.”  
She shook her head, stubbornly not looking up at him.   
“It's too dangerous,” she muttered, “We have no idea how.”   
“We can try?” Grantaire murmured, “We could always cause a distraction or something.” 

Eponine finally looked up at him, her expression conflicted.   
“We’re supposed to stay hidden,” she whispered although she sounded as if she was trying to convince herself. Grantaire shrugged, glancing pointedly towards the bank. Several moments passed in tense silence before another gunshot pierced the air. Eponine flinched and then sighed.   
“Fine,” she growled, “We go in there.” 

She began marching towards the bank determinedly. Grantaire followed quickly, catching up with her and catching her sleeve.   
“Wait: how do we get in?” he hissed.   
She grabbed his hand, squeezing hard. “We get in like this,” she muttered flatly and Grantaire felt the ground fall away and his head swam. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as his vision blurred. He stumbled forward, pulled along by Eponine but he felt like he was floating. A wave of nausea rushed over him and he gagged, almost falling. Time passed in a whirl as he felt sharp stabbing pains across his body. There was a horrible sensation, a mixture of falling and hitting something extremely solid at a high speed. He felt fluid, as if every part of him had turned to water. Still, he kept moving forward, forcing his legs to move although he had no sensation in them. 

Finally Eponine let go of his hand and the world returned to normal. Grantaire dropped onto his kneed and gasped for air, his stomach heaving. He felt as if he had just run a marathon without any preparation. After several long seconds, letting the dizziness and nausea fade, he opened his eyes and was relieved to see the world seemed solid. They were somehow in a small office, dark and dreary. Grantaire was kneeling beside a wooden desk while Eponine crouched beside him, an unsettled expression on her face. 

“You okay?” she asked uncertainly. Grantaire took a moment to glare at her before shaking his head pointedly.   
“I don't know what that was but don't ever do that again,” he hissed.   
“It got us in here,” Eponine pointed out, straightening up and seeming reassured that he wasn't about to drop dead. Grantaire didn't feel as sure; his insides still seemed to be trying to rearrange themselves. 

“You're fine,” Eponine told him, poking him gently with her boot, “I just used my powers on you - it's less difficult than you'd expect to turn someone invisible and drag them through a wall.”  
“You clearly aren't supposed to carry passengers,” Grantaire growled, “I feel like a corpse. I can't feel my legs.”   
“You’ll live,” Eponine said unsympathetically, beginning to fade from view, “I’m gonna check out this situation with the hostages. You can stay here until you can walk again.”   
“Thanks,” Grantaire muttered sarcastically. He forced himself to his feet as Eponine disappeared. For a couple of seconds the world swam before his eyes and he nearly collapsed again but he managed to stay upright, taking deep breaths as his eyes focused. He stretched, slowly regaining feeling in his limbs and glanced around; taking in the filing cabinets that lined the wall. The chair lay on its side with several papers scattered around it, presumably knocked over in the panic earlier.

He grabbed the edge of the desk and hauled himself up, his legs feeling like jelly. There was a horrible few seconds where his stomach flipped sickeningly and his vision went blurry but he breathed deeply and returned to feeling relatively normal, if slightly shaken. 

He began to take a few unsteady steps when a voice from behind him came out of nowhere causing him to jump and nearly fall again as he spun round. Eponine slowly came into view behind him, talking quickly and quietly.  
“There are about 30 hostages and 10 guys with guns,” Eponine told him, looking distressed, “They've already shot one woman for trying to get away. It's horrible.”  
“Where are they?” Grantaire asked, peering at her with concern.   
“There's a long corridor outside with other offices; they're just beyond there – around the foyer,” Eponine told him, staring blankly at the desk, “They were talking about taking the hostages down to the vault though. Getting one of them to open it for them.” 

Grantaire took a deep breath. “Okay, we need a plan,” he said, feeling more grounded now. Eponine shook her head, biting her lip and not taking her eyes off the desk.   
“I- I don't think I can,” she muttered, “We can't fight these guys – they're serious- they'll kill us. I- I can't fight them.”  
“We're not going to fight them,” Grantaire reassured her, “We're just gonna try to help the hostages if we can.”  
“It's too dangerous,” she protested weakly, still looking shaken. Grantaire felt a moment of hesitation; what she had seen had rattled her. It was unusual that she was so affected by something.   
“We’re in here now,” he murmured, “You can stop anymore hostages from trying to escape- keep them calm? I’ll stay here and cause a distraction.”

Eponine takes a deep shaky breath, only pausing momentarily before nodding.   
"We can't leave them defenceless," she mutters quietly, sounding as if she's trying to convince herself, before shimmering out of sight.   
Grantaire waits several moments before opening the door as quietly as he can. He peered out into the dimly lit corridor, checking it's empty. He takes a cautious step into the corridor, reaching out with his mind and sensing the patches of shadow that litter the hall. He frowns in concentration, making the grow larger and darker before beginning to make his way from door to door. 

Most of them contain similar offices to the one he was just in; boring, sturdy spaces bit the fourth door he tries leads to a conference room; large windows shining onto the black table surrounded by chairs that would have looked at home in a villains secret lair. The windows looked out onto the office building opposite; the thin sliver of grey light that shone through the two buildings caused strange shadows in the room itself. Grantaire grinned: it was prefect. 

Within a minute he had lowered the temperature of the room, making it darker and more ominous. He strode over to one of the chairs and kicked it into another, causing them both to crash to the ground loudly. First part finished he stepped back into the shadows to wait. 

The footsteps he heard making their way down the corridor were unusually loud in the silent building. The door flew open with a crash and two men, both wearing dark clothes and a ski mask burst through, guns held out in front of them. Grantaire smiled as they lowered their guns, confusion showing on their faces. Eponine's trick of becoming completely transparent was impressive but Grantaire had found that there was more than one was to be completely invisible. He was part of the shadow; undetectable to anyone looking.

"What the hell?" the first man said, walking over to the chairs on the floor. The other man shivered.   
"There's no one here - they must have just been unbalanced," he said, "We should go. This room is creeping me out."   
"They can't have fallen over by themselves," the first man snapped, "Someone knocked them over. Check the other rooms!"

As the second man turned to leave Grantaire took his chance, willing the pair's shadows to stop copying the men. They slowly raised their guns and Grantaire frowned in concentration, making the silhouettes of the guns become solid before the shadows brought them down on the pair's heads. The men crumpled to the floor, out cold. Grantaire felt a thrill of satisfaction; the first time he had realised that he could solidify patches of darkness had confused and startled him but after only a week of experimenting with it he was starting to get used to it. At first he had barely been able to make the shadows substantial for a few seconds - now he could knock someone out with the shadow that they cast. He had no idea how it worked but it did and he couldn't help the flush of pride. 

With some difficulty he rolled the two men- both surprisingly heavy- underneath the conference table and dropped into the nearest chair. It would take a few more minutes before the others realised that their friends hadn't returned and sent more to find out what happened to them. Grantaire would wait. He stared at the table, watching the shadows flicker and spread as he concentrated. He became so engrossed that he only just noticed the faint sound of people in the alley outside. 

He sat up straight, staring out of the window. He saw the two figures making their way through the dimly lit alley easily, the darkness barely affecting his vision anymore. There were two figures, one short, one tall; both were dressed in white outfits that stood out in the grey darkness outside. Grantaire quickly stepped back into the shadows, concealing himself as he began to feel strangely uneasy. 

He waited, hoping the pair would pass by the conference room. Instead they stopped by the wide windows, giving Grantaire a clearer view of the two. He froze, panic washing over him. The tall figure was wearing what looked like high-tech armour; a chrome breast plate with small lights flickering across it lead up to a helmet covering the top of his head. The glowing goggles gave him a strange alien appearance, very different from the loose black trousers Grantaire saw as he clambered onto the window ledge and surveyed the inside. The short her figure: clearly a girl hovered expectantly behind him, her dark frizzy hair held back from her face by a white hairband. A bronze mask covered her eyes and she wore a long white coat. Her arms were bare but she carried two heavy looking batons. 

The first figure laid his hand onto the electric lock of the window. There was a quiet whir and click and the window swung open silently. The boy climbed through and the girl jumped through with surprising ease, landing gracefully beside him.   
“We’re in,” the boy said, peering around the room. The girl made her way to the other side of the desk, getting closer to Grantaire. He stayed very still, breathing shallowly. She shivered slightly. The boy touched his ear briefly and then made a sound of agreement.   
“Chronos says to check the other rooms before making our way down to the vault. Thorn’s still trying to break through but Inferno’s got through. We can meet him once we know this area is clear,” he told the girl. 

The name Inferno made Grantaire inhale sharply as he realised these must be members of the ABC – proper superheroes. It explained the strange costumes and names. The girl glanced over at him at the noise, frowning into the shadows. There were several long seconds where she stared right at Grantaire, looking right at him but not seeing him. Grantaire was frozen in her stare, immobile and barely breathing. Finally she looked away, turning back to her companion.  
“Okay, we’re good to go. Let's leave here - it's creepy and freezing,” she said. The boy nodded and made his way towards the door. 

Grantaire had begun to relax; relief filling him – partially at their leaving and the fact he wouldn’t have to save the hostages when the boy bumped into the table on his way out. He slowed momentarily, looking down at the table but he stopped suddenly, something catching his eye. He crouched down and Grantaire swore internally as he spotted the two unconscious men under the table.   
“LiveWire, come on,” the girl said but he shook his head as he stood up.   
“G, you need to see this,” he said seriously. The light flickered on and off briefly, emitting a crackle of energy, as his mouth twisted into a grimace and he pointed the men. G swore quietly as she saw what he was pointing to. 

“Shit. There's someone else here,” she muttered, clutching the batons even tighter. LiveWire looked at her, clearly alarmed.   
"What do we do?" he asked her, eyes wide. G glanced quickly towards where Grantaire was standing, clearly uneasy.   
“We get out of here – tell the others what we found,” she ordered, “We do what we planned but stay aware. If they knocked out the robbers they might just be other Supers but we need to keep an eye out. Just in case.”  
To Grantaire’s ears she sounded uncertain, running her hand through her dark hair uneasily, but LiveWire nodded and raised his hand to his ear. He briefly reported what they had found while G surveyed the room suspiciously. Dropping his hand, LiveWire told her, “Chronos says to keep an eye out but our priority is helping the hostages. We can't be sure of anyone else intervening and until then we stick to the plan. He’s going to let the others know.”   
G nodded, growing more nervous. “Good. Let's go. This place gives me the creeps.”

They moved quickly towards the door, G determined to leave while LiveWire glances back, unsure and uneasy. Grantaire stayed motionless, afraid that even a small movement would draw the pair’s attention to him. It was only once they were clear of the door that he shuffled closer and slipped through, pressing himself to the wall and thanking God for the dim lights of he corridor, creating plenty of shadows for him to hide in. He saw the pair disappear through another door; into an office that he had been in moments before.

Quickly he slipped after them, breathing shallowly and pressing himself against the nearest wall. The door clicked shut quietly behind him and the corridor was once again strangely silent. He made his way down the corridor, keeping himself concealed, desperately hoping he could find Eponine before another mutant entered the vault. He was breathing deeply, aware that this had gone too far – that he and Eponine had got themselves involved in something which was way over their heads. 

As he entered the main foyer he heard shouting coming from outside; the crowd of people and reporters had grown significantly from what he could see. The foyer itself was empty and silent but dust trickled from the ceiling where the robbers must have shot earlier. Most disturbingly, a splash of red stained the doors of a large cupboard. Grantaire's stomach flipped at the sight. As he stared at the spot of blood, his horror growing, a bolt of white and red flashed past him; a blur moving far too fast for him to focus on. Grantaire pressed against the wall, beginning to panic as the blur disappeared into another corridor. He took several deep breaths, focusing on the fact that Eponine would soon be trapped in the middle of a super-powered fight if he didn't get there first, then he began to move – heading towards the corridor where the blur had disappeared.

He made his way down the hall, blocked with gates and doors that had been left hanging open, trailing shadows and darkness behind him. Some of the lights flickered as he fought down panic which increased at every noise and sensation. The air crackled with electricity, making his hair stand on end from both the static and his uneasiness.

Grantaire was almost half-way down the corridor, moving quickly but as silently as he could, when there was a crash from a room to his left. He flinched, jumping backwards and skidding across the polished floor. He stared in horror at the room where golden light seemed to be pouring out from the cracks under the door. The door opened and Grantaire was momentarily blinded by the bright light. It grew hotter, even from where Grantaire stood, and a warm orange glow filled the corridor, forcing him to press himself against the wall and pray that his darkness would hold. 

As he eyes focuses he saw a familiar figure, dressed in dark red. Inferno glanced around the corridor, his eyes skimming past Grantaire. Any bitterness Grantaire had at the Superhero who had caused him to mutate vanished at the sight of him. He seemed majestic – standing confidentially while Grantaire cowered in the shadows. The light drove back Grantaire’s creeping shadows, forcing him to press so close to the wall he felt 2D. Glancing down at himself he noticed that he practically had, appearing as a smudge of shadow on the wall. Inferno glanced around, seeming uncertain about something before his eyes fixed on where GrantIre stood. He peered into the darkness, searching for something – for someone. Grantaire stayed motionless, staring back at Inferno and trying not to panic. 

It seemed like forever before Inferno began to turn away, his face a picture of suspicion. Grantaire slowly let out the breath he hadn't realised he had been holding, his tense muscles relaxing. That was when he spotted the masked robber at the end of the corridor, gun raised and pointed right at Inferno. 

He reacted quickly, yelling out a wordless warning and raising his arm. A dark tendril of shadow shot out, wrapping round the gun and tugging it away from the man before he had the chance to shoot. Suddenly defenceless, the man panicked and ran down the corridor. Inferno hovered about to follow him when he seemed to remember Grantaire and whirled round. 

"Who are you?" he hissed into the shadow, clearly on edge. Grantaire raised his hands placating, flinching away from the sudden burst of heat.   
"Calm down, Apollo," he said, an edge of desperation in his voice, "I'm an ally."   
"An ally?" repeated Inferno, his tone suspicious but it had lost the aggressive edge.  
"Yeah. I was passing by and I just wanted to help the hostages. Then you guys turned up," Grantaire told him trying to stay calm. He hoped that Inferno wouldn't remember his voice from almost a week before. Inferno showed no sign of recognition luckily. Grantaire couldn't help but feel a stab of disappointment then. 

"You're a civilian then?" Inferno asked, going from defensive to annoyed. Grantaire shrugged before realising that Inferno couldn't see him, shrouded in darkness as he was.   
"Yeah I guess," Grantaire agreed, "I mean - I'm a mutant but I'm not exactly a Superhero."   
"Empowered," Inferno corrected, glancing down towards the vault.   
"Sorry, what?"  
"The word mutant carries bad connotations. It's othering and implies there's something unnatural about people with Powers," Inferno said shortly, "The word Empowered is a lot less negative."   
Grantaire couldn't help the doubtful snort. Inferno glared towards him.   
"You're a civilian - you need to get out," he ordered. Grantaire felt a flair of annoyed defiance at the instruction.   
"Because you know what you're doing so much more than the police or army do?" he said sarcastically.   
"Yes. I do," said Inferno, his hair beginning to glow unnaturally, "I'm less likely to get hurt." 

Grantaire opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by a shout from the vault. Both glanced down the corridor and saw LiveWire rushing towards them, followed by G who was literally hovering behind him.   
"En- Inferno!" LiveWire exclaimed, "The targets are down - we can open the doors."  
"Also we think another Empowered was in the vault - he hostages said that an invisible woman told them to keep down rather than fight the robbers," G said, dropping gracefully to the floor, "Might be the person who knocked out the robbers we found."

Inferno glanced towards Grantaire, clearly surprised but Grantaire was already inching away, back towards the foyer. It was clearly too late to warn Eponine but she must have got herself out.   
"You missed everything," LiveWire commented, "What happened?"   
"I – I’m not sure," Inferno muttered. Grantaire felt as if the Superhero’s eyes were burning holes into his back. He desperately hoped that wasn't part of Inferno’s actual power. 

There was an electric hum and the doors swing slowly open, revealing the many people gathered outside. The police rushed in, cautiously clearing the way as reporters and worried family members flocked in behind them. Inferno, G and LiveWire disappeared quickly; most people already seeming distracted. Grantaire watched the colourful group leave, still hovering unseen by the wall. As the chatter of reporters and shouted commands of the police filled the air, Grantaire slipped into the crowd. No one noticed as he made his way out the doors, pulling out his phone and hoping Eponine could reply. Even as the crowd became thinner, Grantaire felt strangely numb. Something had changed significantly; Grantaire just wasn't sure what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I'm starting school again in a few days I wont be updating as often. Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

“So you talked to the invisible woman who was down in the vault?” Marius asked Enjolras, pulling off his helmet and giving him a concerned look. “What was she like? What was she doing?”   
Enjolras leant back, chewing on his lip. He was still completely costumed and made no move to remove his mask. Frowning, he replied, “I don't know. It's strange – they were more like a shadow person.”   
“It doesn't add up,” Combeferre cut in as Enjolras trailed off, “It would have been nearly impossible for anyone to get to you from the vault that quickly and the descriptions don't match up; one’s invisible, the other is obscured by shadow. One's described as a woman while you say the person you talked to has a more masculine voice.”

“So there were two different people?” Marius asked, his armour-like suit hissing as he pulled the plates off. He laid them carefully on the table, the metal clinking.   
“Maybe more,” Courfeyrac said quickly, finally speaking up, “There are only two we know about. Neither of them showed up on the heat scanners – who knows who else was in there.” He approached Combeferre who was hovering by the large bank of computer screens covering one wall. News stories flickered past too fast to read but Combeferre was completely focused, not missing a detail. He seemed not to notice the busy room around him, full of his friends pulling off their costumes or lounging on the large chairs scattered around the conference table in the middle. 

“The real question is whether or not they were hostile or not,” Musichetta said as she walked into the room, fixed on her tablet. Musichetta’s hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she had her glasses on as she frowned down at the screen, fingers moving rapidly across it.   
“The figure said they were an ally,” Enjolras said, standing up and approaching Musichetta who spun the tablet round for him to see a fuzzy picture of the ABC emerging from the bank. 

“The strange shadowy figure you meet during a bank robbery, describes themselves as an ally and were just going to accept that!” Courfeyrac commented incredulously, stepping up to see the picture. Enjolras made a face at his friend who stuck his tongue out in return.  
“Of course not,” he replied, “But they weren't hostile – neither of them were and the woman in the vault stopped civilians from being hurt.”   
“They could still pose a threat,” Musichetta commented, “They could have been in the bank for their own gain.” 

“They could have done but they would have made their move before we arrived, right?” Courfeyrac cut in, “They had plenty of opportunities before we got there.”   
“They still creep me out,” Marius piped up, “Just in general. When ‘Chetta and I found the men in the conference room I remember a chill going down my spine and I felt like I was being watched. They're like ghosts, or shadows.” Musichetta nodded in agreement.

Finally, Combeferre tore his eyes away from the screen and unsteadily walked over to join the main group. He seemed slightly dazed as Courfeyrac slipped an arm round his waist.   
“Any news?” Enjolras asked folding his arms, and walking over to his friend. Combeferre focused on hi and shook his head, still leaning on Courfeyrac for support.   
“No, nothing we don't know about already. Some more reports on the girl in the vault, but all pretty similar.”  
“You shouldn't take in that much information so quickly,” Courfeyrac muttered to Combeferre, gently rubbing his arm, “It makes you dizzy.”  
“I’m aware of that,” Combeferre shot back, clutching Courfeyrac’s arm, “But I’ve gone through it all now – no damage control needed.”  
“This time,” commented Musichetta, sticking her tongue out at Marius who flushed. Courfeyrac gave a loud laugh. “Oh, that was hilarious,” he cackled, “You were so flustered by her – it was adorable.”  
“I was just trying to be nice,” Marius muttered, running his hand through his hair.   
“I know,” reassured Courfeyrac, “It was sweet but the look on your face when she-“  
“We know the story,” Enjolras cut in, unable to stop the smile tugging at his lips at the memory, “We were there. We need to focus on mission report for now though.”

Combeferre sighs, “He's right, we need to get to the Musain. We need to let the others know what's going on- we should tell them about the Ghost and Shadow.” 

==================

The street was quiet; people were silent as they passed Eponine and Grantaire. A few cars passed, blurs of colour in the surrounding grey street. 

“So, you think we should get costumes?” Grantaire joked, breaking the silence.   
Eponine scoffed, elbowing him gently, “What a catsuit?”  
“Oh, c’mon you know you want one,” Grantaire joked, shoving his hands into his pockets and grinning at his friend. Eponine raised an eyebrow at him, swerving round a passing business man.   
“It's a well known fact that I would rock a catsuit,” Eponine said dangerously, “Don't tell me otherwise. But do I have to remind you, we aren't superheroes?”  
“Totally are,” Grantaire scoffed, as Eponine scowled at him.   
“Shut up – you don’t want someone to hear you,” She muttered as they turned into the next street, despite the fact no one was nearby. 

The café door jangled loudly as Grantaire pushed it open, holding it open as Eponine passed under his arm, pulling her scarf and gloves off. Grantaire shrugged off his jacket, smirking at Eponine’s scowl at the sight of him in only a t-shirt. The scent of coffee and baking filled the air, the warmth of the café a shock after the steely cold of outside. A pumpkin remained on the worn wooden counter despite Halloween being long gone and tinny music played in the background. The café was almost empty, only a few people sat at the scattered tables slowly drinking steaming drinks while flicking through the second hand books available. The girl at the counter looked painfully bored, tapping her brightly coloured nails against the battered till. As she caught sight of Eponine her face brightened, standing up straight. 

“You’re here! Im so relieved- we’ve got Mabeuf’s friends gathering in the back room again and they always stay late. I thought you’d still be off ill – you’re really late,” she said in a rush, grabbing one of the café’s aprons from a hanger behind her and tossing it to Eponine who caught it expertly. “Hey R! It's good to see you!” Her words tumbled out of her, a cheerful waterfall of thoughts and information. Grantaire grinned and waved back, Matelope’s constant enthusiasm spreading like a virus despite all that had happened in the last few hours.   
“Yeah, I’m really sorry Mattie,” Eponine replied as she pulled on the apron, “Traffic was a nightmare – what with the bank robbery.”  
“Yeah, I heard about that,” Mattie said, lowering her voice as if she was telling a great, somber secret, “It was on the radio. Thank God for those superheroes.”  
“Yeah,” Eponine replied with a tired sigh, “Thank God for the Superheroes.”

The bell above the door jangled loudly, announcing the entry of a customer. Grantaire turned to see who entered, as Mattie piped up, “Oh hey, your friends are in the back-room with Mr Mabeuf. Shall I get you your usual? ”

“That would be great, thank you,” the stranger said as door swung closed. Grantaire turned his head to see who had just entered and stopped. The man who had just walked in was stunning; tall, slender, strong jawed. He was frowning slightly, as if something was bugging him. But he seemed undeniably familiar. Grantaire couldn't shake it, couldn't quite place where he had seen the stranger before. He wouldn't have forget the man, not with his gold hair and bright red coat and face like an angel out of a Renaissance painting. The man gave him a brief, pained smile as he stepped into the warmth of the café, his breath forming small clouds which quickly faded. Grantaire had a good memory for faces, a good memory for colours and shapes and images, and he was certain he had seen the man before.

Eponine elbowed him gently, breaking Grantaire out of his daze. He glanced at her, his gaze questioning and she raised a derisive eyebrow in response. Mattie was chattering away as she fiddled with the coffee machine and Grantaire realised with a guilty start that he hadn't heard a word she had said. She turned back, a blithe smile on her face as she placed a cup of coffee with a sinful amount of whipped cream on the counter. 

“Is that for you?” the stranger asked Grantaire as he approached, gesturing towards the mug on the counter uncertainly. Grantaire shook his head and gave a small laugh.   
“No, all yours. I'm just a friend, not getting anything. Couldn't deal with that much whipped cream to be honest,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. The man raised a frustratingly perfect eyebrow at Grantaire.   
“A coffee snob then?” he replied with a wry grin as he handed his money to Mattie. Grantaire shrugged, “What can I say. I only take it as black as my soul.”

The man laughed and Grantaire felt his heart skip slightly. He forced himself to tear his eyes away, glancing towards Mattie and Eponine.   
“I should be getting off,” he said forcefully, feeling the stranger’s eyes on him still. They seemed to burn into him and he bit his lip.   
“You sure you can't stick around for a bit?” Mattie asked, sounding disappointed as she handed the stranger’s change to him, “Coffee’s on the house for you.”   
“No it's not,” Eponine muttered balefully. Mattie made a derisive sound in response.   
“I'm the boss for now so it is,” she insisted, giving him a smile before turning to the stranger, “Can I get you anything else, Enjolras?”

The stranger- Enjolras, shook his head as he dropped his change into the tip jar. The coins clanked loudly.   
“I'm good for now, thanks,” he told her, his frown returning, “I better be joining my friends, they're probably waiting.”  
“Sure thing. Just say if you need anything,” she replied, her smile ever-present despite Enjolras’ suddenly serious expression. He nodded jerkily, gave Grantaire and Eponine a quick, cold smile before hurrying away. 

It seemed colder as he quickly walked away, drumming his fingers on the mug he was cradling. As he hurried towards the door at the other end of the café, the dim light caught the tumbling gold of his hair and Grantaire almost stopped breathing. Enjolras’ hair seemed to glow briefly in the light, and Grantaire knew where he recognised the man from. It fit – the hair, the voice, how he seemed to emanate warmth, even the glaringly bright red coat. Grantaire cursed himself for not realising earlier – it was less than an hour since he had last been face to face with Enjolras after all, if he was right. Only then, Grantaire had thought of him as Inferno.

"Grantaire, Grantaire!” Mattie said, jabbing his arm and breaking him out of his revery. The door swing shut behind Enjolras with a clunk and Grantaire tore his eyes away to look back at Mattie.   
“Sorry, I got – um, distracted,” he said sheepishly. Mattie smirked.  
“Understandable,” she said with a wink. Behind her Eponine rolled her eyes. “Anyway, are you sure you don't want to stick around for now? We’re not that busy today, it would be nice to catch up.”  
“Uh- I- I should probably go. Got.. things to do.. Sorry,” Grantaire said, his head buzzing as the shock of his realisation wore off, “I’ll be back soon, though. We can chat then.”   
“You better be,” Mattie ordered good-naturedly, “I have loads to talk about.”  
Grantaire glanced towards the back door, where he could hear murmurs of conversation.   
“Yeah, I’ll be back really soon,” he told her, “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So its been forever since I've updated this. Basically, college happened and my life went out of a window. Luckily I've got more of a routine now and holidays are coming up so I will hopefully be able to update again soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos appreciated! Thanks for reading!


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